


Don't Get Yourself In Situations

by fyredancer



Series: The Most Popular Girl [1]
Category: Tokio Hotel
Genre: Angst, F/F, High School, Romance, femmeslash, gender swap, twincest not related
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-18
Updated: 2013-02-18
Packaged: 2017-11-29 16:13:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/688909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fyredancer/pseuds/fyredancer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bill's been on the move for years, and so accustomed to keeping her heart closed off due to self-protection she's a little out of touch with how others perceive her.</p><p>Tommy's used to getting everything she wants, but has never been faced with someone she wants so badly.</p><p>Will Bill manage to outrun her pursuit, or will Tommy bring her happiness that will haunt her when Bill moves on again?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the toho_kinkmeme over on Livejournal, prompt: High school fic: girl!Bill thinks that the most popular girl in school, girl!Tom, is the one for her.. but how does the girl!Bill react when girl!Tom starts persuing her first? Include awkward highschool moments and lots of lovely femmeslash!
> 
> This fic jumped out, mugged me, had its way with me, and made me like it. I couldn't not write it. It consumed my spare time for slightly under a week.
> 
> Huge thanks go to pseudoblu for the absolutely perfect artwork that brings my Tommy and Bill to life, the beautiful banner to pair with the fic, and not so subtle encouragement for more; kishmet for all the cheerleading and pre-reading, and my kuwamiko, for not judging me upon hearing I was writing high school fic. ;D
> 
> To th_australia, for the prompt that utterly consumed me. :D

Most people with a reasonable awareness of their surroundings and familiarity with the typical high school strata could pick out the most popular girl in the room at a single glance.

It wasn't always the peppy, prettiest blond cheerleader. It wasn't even always the sweetest, most likable girl in the year. It wasn't necessarily the class slut, beautiful or not and getting it with whoever she wanted, regardless of gender. And it wasn't necessarily the rich girl, either; the one with all the connections and the most expensive car in the student car park.

Bill had noticed _the_ most popular girl was the one who caused a gravity shift when she walked in the room. It was the girl who, whether she knew it or not, caused others to orient toward her when she was there, gyrating inevitable as sun-drawn plants.

Bill Kaulitz, sometimes known as Bills, never Billie, knew high school strata, that weird anthropological curiosity of clique-divided landscapes and culture clash jammed in elbow to elbow within the daily lock-up they called high school. She had been to five in three years, and there would be more. Some might guess she was a military brat and she'd let them think so; in truth, her father was a corporate hatchet man and got the job done in one place before moving on again and again.

"High school is like prison," Jorg had told her bluntly when dropping her off for her first day of freshman year. "Go up to the strongest person in the group and take them out, and none of the rest will give you shit."

Bill had kept that in mind, but she didn't try out his advice; she wasn't into kneecapping Hilary Duff look-alikes or sporty little things on the rise. She stayed on the outskirts; she was a ghost. Liable to be pulled out of school any day and disappear, she preferred it that way. Still, Jorg's words had lingered and Bill always found herself seeking out the most popular, as though to assure herself she'd found the center – there was the sun, the place she'd never be. Bill orbited the periphery, kept her distance, knew her place.

Walking into the student center for her first break period on her first day at Schrei High, Bill searched automatically for the focal point of the room in order to maintain a calibrated distance. There was none. Several groups were scattered around; the usual jocks, studious types, crewbie stragglers, a few lone emo kids, and some less visually quantifiable groups sitting around chatting, eating, or doing homework.

Relieved, Bill brushed a self-conscious hand over the tight gray cashmere cardigan she wore over a ruffled micro-skirt and silvery fishnet leggings and strode to one of the unoccupied tables, hoping she wasn't breaking some code of conduct as yet unknown to her.

Her black, blond-streaked hair was flat-ironed and hung in her face today, and she was glad for the shield. Sometimes she spiked it up, sometimes she tied it back. On the first day she tried to strike a nondescript balance, because she needed to avoid standing out.

Bill bent her head and began to rifle through homework assignments. As usual, she was ahead in some subjects and behind in others. She was making out a list of things to focus on when the double doors to the student center swung open.

She looked up, and gravity shifted.

The person striding through the doors with a posse to either side was tall, gorgeous, and had dirty-blond dreadlocks that spilled to mid-back even caught up at the nape of a New Era cap. Bill's eyes widened. Despite the large hip-hop style clothes, there was evidence of curves and a decent-sized bosom under the XXL graffiti t-shirt.

Bill realized she was staring and lowered her face with a blush. She didn't stare, she didn't approach, she didn't _covet_ \- those were the rules.

"Tom, you want to go to the Lucas party tonight?" a boy to the gorgeous girl's right inquired.

Tall, gorgeous and dreadlocked didn't even pause mid-stride; she crooked an impish sort of glance at the bleached blond on her right. "Is there beer?"

"Yes—"

"And that's the answer," Tom decided, with a winning smile that was a dart lodged in Bill's ribcage, a glimpse into why the girl was the sun center of a now-dreary room.

She was approaching Bill with unfaltering strides, making Bill look up from her notes in confusion.

"You're in my spot," Tom informed her.

"I'm sor--" Bill began, grabbing her things to shove into her Coach backpack and make a hasty retreat.

"Don't be," Tom replied, tipping herself into the chair beside Bill's in a lanky sprawl. She licked her lips and fixed Bill with a gaze so intense it should have been comical, but came across predatory enough to make Bill tingle. Tom had a lip ring at the corner of her mouth and it was all Bill could see for a moment as the tip of her tongue played with it. "Someone pretty as you can put her bottom on anything of mine."

Flustered, Bill stood. "I've got to go," she said.

Tom sat back in her chair, eyes openly running over Bill from head to toe. "Are you sure? But you just got here..."

"Yeah, I'm...I've...gotta catch up," Bill said, gathering her composure around her like a veil of ice. This was ridiculous. She didn't lose her cool for anyone – and it was a huge mis-step. She prided herself on flying below the radar.

Having the most popular girl check her out on the first day was not low profile.

"At least give me your name," Tom pleaded, raising large brown eyes as she reached out to touch the back of Bill's wrist. "You're new, right?"

Bill nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

"Gonna make me guess?" Tom prompted, with another sweet grin that lit her face with amusement.

"It's Bill," Bill told her. "I'm Bill Kaulitz."

"Tommy Brandon," Tom introduced herself, frowning at Bill's chest as though to double-check she was a girl. "Most people call me Tom."

"That's a boy's name," Bill observed, crossing her arms over her chest. "Two of them."

"Says the girl named Bill," Tom replied cheerfully, giving her a casual finger, though her eyes held a teasing glint that made it less offensive.

Bill inhaled. What was she doing, getting entangled in banter? "Bye," she said, backing away, strangely reluctant to take her eyes off the lean, long-legged girl. Bill had been attracted to both sexes but this was the first time she'd experienced such a strong pull toward one person in particular. There was no chance.

Tom was the popular girl; Bill was the ghost.

"See you around," Tom replied, giving her a little wave.

"Doubt it," Bill murmured, intending to make sure their paths wouldn't cross again.

* * *

If Bill was a ghost, then Gustav, the boy she met during the second half of her day, was a lurker. They were two distinct types that could be mutually beneficial to each other; not friends, but allies. Recognizing his type, Bill sought him out between classes to consult.

"Two things," Gustav said, lifting a finger. "You're probably thinking of dodging the Lucas party you've heard about. Don't. It'll stick out more if the new girl doesn't show up."

Bill sighed. It wasn't that she hated parties. It was more the fact that she enjoyed them too much – it was hard to suppress the urge to stand out, mingle, shine a bit.

"Next, Tommy Brandon rules the school..."

Bill's stomach contracted. "We've met," she squeaked out.

Gustav's eyes widened. "And?"

Bill knit her brow. "And what?" she wanted to know.

Gustav shook his head slowly. "You're either in or you're out, with Tom. Me, I'm out...way out. And that's fine."

"Right," Bill agreed. "Well, I guess I'm out?"

Gustav stared at her with quiet regard for a moment before shrugging. "If you say so."

Bill sighed. "So I'm going to the party. Do you go?"

Gustav nodded gravely. "I go for the beer."

Bill smirked at him. She remembered Tom saying something to that effect. She didn't see the appeal herself – she was into sweet drinks, and her father didn't mind if she got into wine coolers or malt beverages at home. "Want to go for solidarity's sake?"

"If Tom is into you..." Gustav began, assuming a concerned look, or maybe just concentrating.

Bill laughed, the sound a little wild even to her own ears. "How could she be? We barely spoke. It was about five minutes."

Gustav's glasses glinted as he tilted his head to give her a skeptical expression, but he spoke no more on it.

As luck would have it, Tommy shared two afternoon classes with Bill – AP history and AP English. It surprised Bill to see Tommy sauntering into the advanced placement class when maybe it shouldn't have. Bill kept her head down and after that first startled glance tried not to look. There was a girl-crush brewing fierce inside her but she had a look, but not touch policy – especially considering the girl of her affections was the most popular of their year, maybe even the school.

Bill never knew how long she was going to stick around, and so she couldn't let herself get entangled. Most especially not someone like Tommy, who would only get her bullied for being out of her league, get her heart broken and then she'd have to leave her behind. Postcards and long emails and teasing texts and webcams could only carry a relationship so far, when there was no going back.

"Hey," a low, confident voice said beside her, and Bill kept her eyes riveted to her book as Tom dropped into the open seat next to hers. "I'm glad I get to see your pretty face again so soon."

Bill's head snapped up. _You can't--_ she wanted to say, but mostly she was throbbing with a mix of anxiety and nerves that Tommy was approaching her so boldly. As though she _wanted_ to pursue Bill, when Bill couldn't possibly be her type, fitting in better with the skinny goths or crewbies than any of the mix of Tommy's hip-hop and preppy crowd.

"Don't get used to it," she murmured, unable to think of any put-off more clear. She had to look away because Tommy was giving her a little grin, small but very much amused like a shared secret.

"You coming to the Lucas party tonight?" Tommy continued, either ignoring Bill's words or undeterred.

"We'll see," Bill said, taken aback. She wasn't used to being pursued blatantly, and Tommy was basically devouring her with her eyes, looking Bill up and down and licking at the upper bead of her lip ring.

"You should," Tommy said, subsiding into her chair with a nod. "I'd totally show you around."

Bill limited herself to nodding and fixing her attention on the notebook in front of her. There was no reprieve later that afternoon even after she made a quick escape from History, because AP English was a repeat performance, with Tommy taking up residence in the seat beside her, waving off some skinny, pimply dude with glasses and inviting her to the party more than once.

"Why are you so hung up on getting me to the party?" Bill hissed at last, her words happening to fall in a long instant of dead silence.

The teacher looked up from his overhead at the front of the class. "Brandon, are you harassing your classmates again?" the man said, sounding weary.

"No, sir!" Tommy shot back, not bothering to straighten in her chair. "It's not harassment if she likes it, sir."

Bill bent her head to her notebook and couldn't help the giggle that escaped unbidden. She bit her lip. She didn't want to encourage Tommy, but...

A crumpled wad of paper landed next to her hand. Bill turned her head, glared, and considered flicking it right back in Tommy's direction, but paled before the thought of someone else – or the teacher – getting hold of it. She opened the note and read in a surprisingly neat scrawl,

__

Because you're the hottest girl in school. Meet me at the Lucas party?


__

Bill didn't even have to fake a response to that one. She rolled her eyes in Tommy's direction and jammed the wadded-up note in her boot.

"Psst," came from Tom's direction several times.

"Leave me alone, Tommy," Bill murmured back, bending a fierce glare in her direction to emphasize. She wasn't behind in this class, but she sure wasn't anxious to appear like a total slacker in front of the teacher on the first day of school.

"Can't," Tommy responded. When Bill glanced over again, she was bestowing that intimate grin on her. "Not until you call me Tom, at least."

Bill groaned inwardly, even as she remembered that Tommy had tacked on the fact that most people called her Tom. "Tom," she repeated, and bent her head over her notebook in a show of studious behavior. " _Maybe_ I'll see you at the party, if you shut up about it right now."

There was silence Tommy-ward for the rest of the period.

* * *

After donning tight black clothes, touching up her make-up, and spiking her hair to Sonic-era levels, Bill left a note for her father and pranced out to Gustav's car out front. He'd offered to text her the address of the house party and she'd taken advantage of his number to call back and demand a ride, not because she didn't have a car but because she hoped in some sense that having Gustav drive her would prevent her from doing anything too stupid.

"Hard to stay on the sidelines in that get-up," was Gustav's sole comment as he shifted into drive. He hadn't changed from his t-shirt, baseball cap, and stodgy glasses.

"Eh," Bill said, flicking her fingers. Her black and white French manicure was getting a bit chipped, she noted, and reminded herself to touch it up after the party. "I'm sure I won't even stand out."

Alas for Bill, she turned out to be the tallest girl at the Lucas party, with her hair spiked three inches and her boots giving her three more. She found a beer and tried to bury herself in an armchair, but before she could, her arm was accosted by a strong hand and a full globe of C-cup.

Bill choked and imitated a drowning person, spluttering her beer half down her front.

"Oh no, do I have to administer CPR?" Tom demanded, grinning at Bill as she turned her to get a good look. "Damn, I knew you'd look fine. You okay?"

"Mm," Bill mumbled, trying to be noncommittal, wiping her mouth with the back of one hand. Tom wasn't dressed much differently from earlier – graffiti t-shirt long enough to be a dress, dreadlocks gathered at the back of a New Era cap – but now she was relaxed and glowing. Also, in close proximity; Bill could feel the warmth of Tom's skin against her own.

"Aw, and here I was hoping I could give you mouth to mouth," Tom said, her eyes going heavy-lidded as she moved toward Bill with predatory intent.

This was bad; very bad. Bill had put in an appearance. Surely she could get the hell out of here, now, and escape Tommy's clutches? Everyone was seeing them together right now, and that was no good for Bill's long-term plans.

One day she'd disappear, and leave no trace behind.

Tom stopped abruptly, her brows pinching together in the middle. "You don't like girls?" she stage-whispered. Considering the party volume, it was still loud enough to make Bill flush.

"That's not it," Bill said evasively.

"You don't like me?" Tom pressed, her fingers tightening around Bill's wrist as though to dare her to answer that way.

"I...I just met you," Bill replied, lifting her chin and returning Tom frown for frown.

"So get to know me," Tom urged, winding her other arm around Bill as though to pull her into swaying dance moves. "You're new, I know everybody here; you're gorgeous, and I like you."

"You can't," Bill blurted, pushing away.

"What the... Bill? What's wrong?"

"I can't dance," Bill claimed, and fled the scene. She went searching for Gustav, though if he wasn't up for it, she knew she'd end up walking home.

The problem wasn't disliking Tom. Bill was pretty sure she liked her _too_ much.

* * *

After over a week of attempting to fend off Tom's attempts to get her alone, ask her out, or carry her books – who carried books anymore, honestly? - Bill woke up after a mostly sleepless night, smacked her alarm off, flopped over in bed, and masturbated to the thought of Tommy climbing in beside her and settling warm fragrant weight atop Bill's body. In Bill's imagination Tom was playing with her lip ring and looking down at her, rocking her hips back and forth. One long-fingered hand slipped up under Bill's pajama top to finger at the slightness of one breast, circling a nipple into a tight, needy peak.

With a whimper, Bill's fingers moved more frantically and she came in a gush. She was imagining Tom looking down at her all bright-eyed and lascivious, pushing her panties down for a taste. Lying in bed for a long moment, Bill considered going again, before she looked at the clock and groaned. Between her grooming routine and the time it took to get to school, Bill had to be out of bed and moving five minutes ago.

She tried to put thoughts of Tommy out of her head, both before and as she arrived at school, but it was impossible for one very specific reason.

"You smell so goddamn gorgeous," a familiar cocky voice said behind her.

Bill picked up the pace, her chunky heels clacking over linoleum floor. She thought she'd mapped out all safe, Tommy-free routes between her locker and her morning classes, but apparently Tom was more determined than she'd thought.

"Hey," Tom persisted, breaking into a jog until she fell into step beside Bill. 

She looked a little ridiculous, duck-waddling with determined strides, and Bill couldn't quite bite back her grin.

"I was giving you a compliment," Tom continued, sending a frown her way.

Bill sighed internally. Making Tommy hate her wasn't any better than standing out by having Tommy like her, or attempt to date her. Everything she was trying to do was backfiring miserably.

"It was a weird compliment," Bill replied, glancing at Tom from the corner of her eye.

"So?" Tom countered. "You're an unusual person. I've already figured out the usual isn't going to work, with you."

Bill huffed and screeched to a stop at her locker, ignoring Tom determinedly as she spun her combination lock. "I bet you've had plenty enough to know, huh?"

"Hell y—wait, is that what this is about?" Tom demanded, leaning against the lockers close enough to make Bill flinch.

"Just go away," Bill said hopelessly. "Someone like you isn't supposed to get involved with a nobody like me."

"Who says?" Tom replied. "Is there a manual I haven't read? Look, if you're worried about me being some kind of slut, I know I'm not the brightest but I'd never be stupid enough to cheat on you."

"It's not done," Bill said flatly, turning from her locker to look Tom in the eyes. If she was earnest enough, serious enough, then maybe Tom would get it. "You want to hear it, out loud? You're out of my league."

Tom's eyes bugged to comical-wide proportions. "You...think _I_..." she began, sputtered, and choked.

"Besides, it's not like I'm going to be here long," Bill continued. She sighed and turned back to swapping out books for her morning classes. "So, that's it. I hope you understand."

"I understand one thing for sure," Tom said, sounding so serious that Bill froze in place.

Bill didn't want to look. Her heart was hammering, and Tom loomed so close she could smell coconut wax and whatever subtle, woodsy scent was coming off her neck.

"They're combining gym classes today," Tom continued, glee-ridden. "And I can't wait to see you in your underwear!"

"TOM!" Bill shrieked, stomping a foot, but Tom was already retreating, grinning wider than should be possible, leaving Bill to deal with the butterfly-swirl of frantic emotions that gripped her in Tom's wake.

* * *

Bill elected to change in a bathroom stall upon arriving at the girls' gym lockers. She wasn't exactly self-conscious; more hyper-aware of her painfully unfeminine body, all angles and flat chest, lanky, taller than any girl she'd ever known, including gorgeous Tommy. The popular girl might be eye to eye with her if Bill would forego the heels. _Stand up tall_ , her father had always admonished, _because if you're tall and you slouch, you look ashamed of yourself. Stand tall, because a tall girl will never look short so you may as well look proud._

Applying that advice to her appearance and life attitude, Bill not only held herself with perfect carriage, but added inches with heeled boots as well. Carrying herself with pride made up for not looking people in the eye, lingering on the social fringes of high school life, keeping herself aloof in a bubble of isolation.

As Bill stripped and changed into her gym clothes, she thought about Tom anyhow. She closed her eyes and ran her hands over her body from chest to hips, taking her lip between her teeth. Instead of feeling stupid she felt sensuous, shameless. In greater moments of self-awareness she could admit Tommy was the perfect girl for her.

Problem was, it didn't matter.

Bill emerged from the bathroom stall to a mostly-empty locker room and shoved her school clothes into an unoccupied locker, far from the main area where she'd seen girls changing. Part of her goal in flying under the radar was to prevent incidents like having her clothes stolen, but it had happened before – let's pick on the giant! - and Tommy's attentions were rendering Bill rather more visible than she liked.

"Hey! Nice ass," an appreciative voice called behind her.

Bill whirled, fixing her hands on her hips. "I don't have one," she shot back, eyeing Tom as fierce as she knew how.

"Whatever; I like the view," Tommy returned, recovering quickly from Bill's dismissal of the compliment.

"Where did you come from? I thought I was alone," Bill complained, striding for the gym entrance.

"You're so busy trying to keep a look-out to be invisible that you're not bothering to see," Tom replied, cryptic.

Bill tossed an annoyed glance over her shoulder but said nothing.

Tom caught up to her with swift strides and passed her, reaching the door first. She held the door open for Bill, eyes locking on hers as though daring her to say something about it.

Bill figured that was what Tom wanted, so contrarily she said nothing. She did admire Tom's figure in the closer-fitting gym clothes. Though shorts and shirt were both larger than Bill's, no doubt a deliberate choice on Tom's part, they did nothing to hide curves and acres of leg and an ample bosom. All of that golden skin topped by Tommy's knowing, wicked grin and her pretty face framed in masses of bound-back dreadlocks was making Bill light-headed.

An unashamed arousal was pooling low in Bill's belly and she had to do something about it, soon.

The double class, as it happened, had been arranged because one of the phys ed teachers was out on leave and they were told it would continue indefinitely. Bill was in a position to see Tom smirk, and rolled her eyes.

They were divided into six teams and unleashed on a gymnasium full of volleyballs. Unsurprisingly, Tommy was chosen as a team leader. Equally of no surprise, she chose Bill for her first pick.

"Oh, you shouldn't have," Bill murmured, taking up a place near but not too close to the other girl.

Tommy flashed a grin at her in return. "I'm going to have fun proving to you that I should."

Bill rolled her eyes again and edged a few steps farther away.

Never having been one for sports – Bill's idea of a work-out was an extended mall crawl – Bill's philosophy was to stay out of the way and do her team a favor by letting them do all the work without the hindrance of her fuck-ups. After Bill's third cringe, Tommy seemed to figure this out and positioned herself to cover Bill's turf and her own.

"Not a volleyball fan?" Tom teased, venturing close enough to rub shoulders with Bill as she bumped the ball over the net.

"Not a fan of balls of any kind," Bill retorted, meaning sports. Tom's smirk made her realize what she'd said and Bill clapped a hand over her mouth.

"Perfect," Tom claimed. "Good to know _I've_ got a shot."

Bill opened her mouth to say something scathing as the ball was spiked back into their court. Tom was diving, Bill began stumbling to the side – but not fast enough. Tom went to the floor, somehow managing to loft their ball back into the air, and collided with Bill's legs, _hard_. Bill dropped as though cut off at the knees and they fell together.

She blinked up at Tom, who had somehow managed to end up propped over her.

With a hand on Bill's breast.

"Pervert!" Bill exclaimed, shoving.

In a stroke of staggering miscalculation, Bill's hands palmed both of Tom's full breasts as she attempted to shove the other girl off her. Tom's eyes crossed and she whimpered; it was an actual pained sound, but a hot tingle jolted straight to Bill's belly, taking up residence between her legs.

Tommy sat back, clasping her arms protectively over her chest, but she was still slung over Bill's lap. Her face was dark and pained and it made Bill feel like instant shit.

"I'm sorry," Bill whispered. "Can I..."

Tom waved her off and got to her feet, staggering. Her mouth was set in a thin line, impassive.

Basically Bill wanted to curl up and die. She could feel all eyes in the class on her, at least those on her team – the entire court – trained on her in accusation.

"Tom," she started, drawing her knees up and readying a short, heartfelt speech on how Tom would be so much better off if she gave up on Bill. The fact was, Tom was perfect for her, but she was no good for anyone.

A hand extended into her field of vision.

Startled, Bill looked up. Tommy was holding out a hand to her.

"But I hurt you," Bill informed her knees, because Tommy already knew.

Tom shrugged, a trace of a smile tugging her mouth and the corners of her bright brown eyes. "It happens," she said. "You pick yourself up, and move on. Or let someone help you up, if you're okay with that."

Bill regarded Tom's extended hand as though it were a trap.

She could see things going one of two ways so clearly. Bill could turn her back on Tom's offer of friendship – and more – and go about her existence as always, vanishing into the background, here one day and gone the next. Or, she could take Tom's hand, and let her pull Bill into human entanglement, and risk, and the certainty of future heartbreak.

And turn her back on the warmth and affection promised by that open, friendly smile.

Being a ghost meant she wasn't even present for her _own_ life.

Bill reached up and took Tom's hand.

Tom's full mouth stretched in a wide, engaging smile and her brown eyes crinkled.

"Good to have you on my team," Tom said, as though welcoming her back from an extended absence.

"I still suck at sports," Bill warned, wanting to pull her hand out of Tom's warm, slightly sweaty grip but finding herself reluctant.

"That's fine," Tom replied, beaming. "I'm good enough for us both."

* * *

There was no avoiding Tommy now. Bill had caved in a tacit gesture of acceptance to Tom's overtures, and her former ways of disappearing now proved fruitless. After that first day in the student center she had spent her free period and lunch in stairwells, the school library, and other out of the way nooks, learning the twists and ins and outs of the immense school building in the process.

Today Tom showed up at her locker, sans posse, and escorted Bill to the student center. With a sigh, Bill went along. There was no point resisting anymore, she justified it to herself.

Tom put a hand to her elbow as though to guide her – or prevent her running away.

"Where are your 'peeps,'" Bill wondered, when they settled down at the student center and no one joined them.

"My 'peeps?'" Tom repeated, an incredulous look crossing her pretty face, and she hooted.

Bill looked down at her backpack as she thumped into her chair, a dull heat staining her face.

"That's a good one. 'Peeps,'" Tom repeated, grinning. "I gave them the day off, I guess."

Bill looked up, startled. "Why?"

Tom's face, and those intense brown eyes, were closer than Bill had realized. Bill squeaked and scooted her chair back several notches.

"Why do you think?" Tom asked her outright.

"Um..." Bill bit her lip and looked around. She scanned over the various groups and solo parties scattered around the student center. Despite her expectation that they'd be the focus of every eye, no one was really staring in their direction, or even looking, really.

Fingers nipped her chin and Bill looked back to Tom, startled.

"To have you all to myself, of course," Tom concluded.

Bill pulled in a shaky sigh, trying to cope with the weight of Tom's appraisal. Her stomach was leaden and the certainty that she couldn't do this returned in full force. "Tom," she began.

"Don't," Tom returned, curt.

Bill widened her eyes. "You don't even know what I was going to say."

Tom hitched her chair closer to Bill's and grasped a fold of Bill's black brocade skirt, pleating it between her fingers. "I know the tone," she replied, brown eyes serious. "I'm not going to let you reject me before we've even given it a try, Bill."

Bill couldn't suppress a rueful grimace. "Is that what we're doing?" she said evasively, looking over her shoulder again. She expected a hand to clap down any moment to lead her off to solitary; punishment for violating the school code.

Someone like Bill didn't get the prettiest, most popular girl.

"Hey." Tom's voice was quiet but her eyes were keen. "Bill. What are you so afraid of?"

Swallowing, Bill began to fiddle with the heavy silver rings on one hand. "I'm not afraid of anything," she denied.

"Bull," Tom said bluntly, reaching out to touch Bill's wrist again as though to lighten the harsh words with gentle contact.

A cluster of juniors jostled through the double doors to the student center, laughing and talking. Some of them were the hipsters Bill recognized from Tommy's crowd; others were sporty; a few of them were boys swaggering in acres of fabric that remained at their hips as though suspended by magic. A few of them looked this way and that. Spotting Tommy, the group began to head over en masse.

"Let's go, Bill," Tommy was saying, her warm fingers circling Bill's knobby wrist and giving it a tug.

Hot shame spiked up through Bill's middle, taking up residence in her face. They'd been seen, and Tommy wanted to go. She'd given her friends 'the day off.' She didn't want people to see them together.

Of course. How could Bill expect anything else?

"Hey, Tommy, who's this?" asked the front runner of the pack; a tall, blond, blue-eyed quarterback type wearing a letter jacket even though the school interior was really too warm.

"What is this, more like," said a shaggy-haired hipster to his right, laughing.

Tom's fingers tightened around Bill's wrist.

"Nobody," Bill snapped, jerking her arm away and bolting to her feet. She brushed past the jeers and hoots, slipping her backpack over one shoulder as she strode out of the student center, all but loping.

"Bill," Tommy called. "Bill, wait!"

But Tommy didn't follow.

Bill sought out an as-yet-unexplored stairwell and skipped Chem, but refused the relief of a good cry.


	2. Chapter 2

"I think I've got you figured out," an unwelcome voice said behind Bill as she perused a line of dusty, cracked leather bindings along a high shelf.

Bill jerked, slipping her thumb along the treacherously sharp edge of a thick textbook page, and swore at the sting of pain that resulted. "Oh really," she said, hushed voice heavy with sarcasm as she turned to confront her tormentor. Even stowing herself at the back of the school's more obscure library had proven to be a fruitless gambit.

Arms akimbo, Tommy stood blocking her exit from the stacks. "Really," she said, chin lifted. She arched an unplucked, expressive brow. "You're a virgin. And you're scared about it."

"And you're a jackass!" Bill exclaimed. Her thumb twanged and she brought her hand up, pained. A cursory examination and a brief squeeze brought a line of red rushing to a previously bloodless white seam across the pad of her thumb. It culminated in a fat crimson drop near the knuckle. "Ugh."

"If anything, I'm a hardcore bitch," Tom corrected, stepping close and grabbing Bill's hand before she could protest.

"Don't—" Bill began, but it was useless. Tom was already popping Bill's thumb into her mouth, tongue laving gently over the wound. "That's disgusting. And unsanitary." Her eyes rolled up a little in unthinking pleasure as Tom licked at her thumb again, working it in her mouth.

"And you like it," Tom concluded, pulling off of her thumb with a wet pop.

"Nng," Bill responded, grinding her teeth. Her knees were weak and she didn't possess enough mental faculty to deny it.

"You ran away," Tom observed, keeping her hand captive as though to prevent a recurrence.

Bill pulled herself together. "You certainly weren't stopping me," she stated coldly, wrenching her hand from Tom's and taking a step back. There was no exit behind her, but the distance was symbolic.

"Bill, have you seen my pants? The best I can manage is a fast swagger," Tom said pathetically, reaching up to tug her dreadlocks with a deprecating look, before giving her a lopsided smile. "I'm no track star; I have to find other means to pursue you."

"Your friends are dicks," Bill said, folding her arms with a stubborn expression.

"Yeah, and if you'd stuck around, you'd have heard me chewing Joe out," Tom informed her. "I let them know where I stand on that shit. I'm serious about you."

Bill stood for a moment, breathing hard. "Why?" she wanted to know.

Tom scrunched her brows together and appeared to give the question serious thought. "Because you're everything I want," she said at last, advancing on Bill again.

Giving ground, Bill took another step back. "You could have anyone in the school," she argued.

Tom grinned. "It's true," she acknowledged. "I want you."

"Because I'm making it difficult for you?" Bill said, scornful.

"Oh, please," Tom said, and walked right up to Bill.

Bill, who promptly ducked under Tom's arm and attempted to retreat from the direction she had come.

"Ah, ah," Tom chided, whirling, and arms cinched around Bill from behind, holding her in place. Tom molded their bodies together.

Eyes fluttering shut as Tom's breasts pressed against her back, Bill was unable to contain the tiny moan that slipped free of her control.

"Say you don't want me," Tom said, mouth against Bill's ear, voice husky. "Go on and say it."

Bill's voice caught as she began to form the word. "I – I..."

Tom's hands fanned out over her ribs, holding Bill against her. "You can't," Tom concluded, reaching up a hand to sweep black hair from the back of Bill's neck. Trailing kisses from jaw toward Bill's nape, Tom murmured, "Nice tat. Chinese character? What does it mean?"

Sense flooded back into Bill's numbed brain and she ripped herself free of Tom's hold. "Independence," she snapped, and lunged forward to pick up her backpack from where she'd left it.

A gray-haired woman with her mouth set in a permanent sneer appeared at the end of the stacks. "Quiet in the library!"

Bill ducked her head and made a swift escape, counting on Tom's pants to hold her back.

"Can I at least have your number?" Tom's voice trailed forlornly after.

Bill's helpless giggle was disguised by the dragon-lady librarian hissing her displeasure again.

* * *

Over the next week, Bill made it her mission to find new and interesting ways into the school, to and from classes, shamelessly using faculty entrances, service elevators, and abandoned stairwells; eating lunch in the empty chemistry lab or the fourth floor north wing bathroom no one ever used because it was so damned out of the way. She came in as close to the school's start as possible and parked on the street, or arrived super early and parked by the door to facilitate quick escape.

A week later Bill had barely seen Tom – she skipped their combined gym, came into class borderline tardy and took whatever seat wasn't near Tom, and made use of a forged bathroom pass to spring release before the period's end. She was alone. She was triumphant. She was miserable.

"You're making life hard on all of us," claimed a handsome boy with long, impossibly glossy chestnut hair. He slid into the seat beside Bill in her German class without so much as a by your leave.

Georg, she thought she remembered his name, and recalled that she'd seen him stuck to Tom's side like a good-natured burr, along with an intense-looking bleached blond.

"Excuse me?" Bill questioned, blinking.

Georg snorted. "You should," he said, and passed over a battered, creased envelope with _Bill_ written across the front in neatly printed script. "If Tommy's not happy, all of us are unhappy."

Bill held up a hand. "I don't want it--" she began, because the more she denied how perfect Tom might be for her, the faster this dull ache of thwarted longing could subside.

"Too bad, because I'm going to make a fuss until you take it," Georg let her know, his voice rising. "Tom's wrecked right now, the lowest I've ever seen her, and it's your fault--"

Bill took the envelope.

If only to shut Georg up, she told herself. On the back there was a little sticker sealing the flap shut. It was a foreign character, Chinese, and Bill frowned at it. She peeled it up and opened the envelope, lifting her eyes briefly to check and make sure the teacher hadn't yet begun class.

 _I miss you_ , the note began without preamble. _I feel half myself when you're not around. Do you miss me?_

Four options had been outlined below the plaintive question.

□ Yes  
□ No  
□ Piss off, I never want to see u again  
□ Ticky

Bill grinned as she got to the last option, and lowered her head to veil her face with dark hair and hide her reaction.

_If you're smiling, text 555-1989 to let me know you don't hate me._

She looked at the note for a long moment, her heart fluttering in its frantic attempt to grow wings and free itself from her chest. After trying and failing to suppress a besotted smile for a minute or so, she leaned toward Georg's desk.

"Hey."

Georg's head lifted. His frown cleared when he caught sight of her face. "Thank god, I'm not going to be killed."

"What?" Bill brushed that aside. "Whatever. Look...has Tom been with a lot of girls?"

"Why does that matter?" Georg asked, brows pinching together once again, then he blinked. "Ah. Well, if it helps, I've never seen Tom this crazy about anyone since..."

Bill hung on his pause, holding her breath.

"Ever," Georg finished, giving her a handsome grin. "Tom tends to be a lone wolf, you know? She hunts, she kills, she roams her turf."

"Okay, enough with the metaphor," Bill decided. "What does she want from me?"

Georg looked at her a moment. "You'll have to ask her," he said at last.

Bill inhaled, dissatisfied by that answer, but understanding why he'd given it. She looked down at the note in her hand again and grinned at it fondly. Before she could question Georg any further, the teacher entered the room and greeted them, prompting a choral response.

Still smiling, Bill fished out her phone and texted 555-1989.

_I don't hate you a lot._

* * *

It was no surprise to Bill when she approached her locker after school's end to find Tommy leaning up against it, the epitome of casual but peeking bright-eyed from beneath the bill of her cap. Bill didn't know where this was going, didn't know if she'd wake up tomorrow and find out that she was leaving, but here and now she wanted to seize the chance. Tommy was pursuing _her_ , and it made her happy, and she really did like her the more she got to know of her.

Tommy had drawn her right into orbit. There was no denying it anymore.

"Hey," Tom greeted her, low alto brimming with suppressed excitement.

"Hey," Bill responded, surprised at how hoarse she sounded.

"So, I was wondering if you wanted to come over to my place?" Tom straightened from Bill's locker and shoved her hands into the tops of her low-riding pockets, thumbs twiddling the belt loops.

"Oh. I, uh, picked up an extra-curric," Bill said, wrinkling her nose. "Show choir, and we meet today."

"Skip it?" Tom asked, presenting soulful brown eyes.

"I like you," Bill admitted aloud, forcing herself to continue past the unidentified obstruction in her throat. "I really like music, too. I'm not--"

"I get it," Tom interrupted.

Bill froze, bracing herself against a spiel on how if she couldn't be bothered to set aside an extra-curricular for Tom, then obviously she wasn't worth Tom's time. She flinched as Tom backed up a step, giving her the space to approach her locker.

"I'll come with," Tom concluded, flashing her a bright, impish grin. "I like music, too."

Bill stared at her.

"Did you think I was gonna be some ogre who was going to tell you how to spend your time, or that I should be more important than anything?" Tom snorted. "I hate that kinda thing; so why would I do it to you when I care about you?"

 _Why,_ Bill wanted to know, but couldn't unstick the words to say them aloud. In silence she opened her locker, swapped books out, and grabbed her leather jacket. By the time she snapped her locker shut, she'd relocated her courage.

"You don't even know me," Bill said, shaky.

Tom looked up at her from beneath the bill of her cap, equal parts hopeful and confident. "I like everything I know about you," she asserted. "I'd really like it if you'd let me learn more."

The beginnings of a smile touched Bill's mouth. "That's funny," she said.

"Hmm?" Tom noised inquisitively, falling into step beside her as they moved up the hallway toward the music wing.

"I was thinking the same about you," Bill confessed. "I...never thought it could happen to me."

"What?" Tom wondered.

"Someone I want this much, being this serious about me," Bill confessed, averting her eyes. Heat took hold of her again.

Tom grinned over at her; opened her mouth:

"Are we going to flirt all afternoon, or go to show choir?"

Bill glared at her. "Has anyone ever told you that you have no brain to mouth filter?"

"All the time," Tom assured her. "It's one of my charming traits. Come on, let's go!"

Two hours later, Bill was dazedly telling Tom, "I didn't know you could play guitar," as they left the show choir's classroom. Tom had rocked a fantastic acoustic set, leaving the choir's sponsor, a music teacher, free to focus on direction and interacting with the students instead of playing piano.

"Well," Tom said, arching a thick brow in her direction. "You never asked?"

"Any other hidden talents I don't know about?" Bill ventured.

Tom tossed a positively lascivious grin her way, tongue emerging to swipe over the full line of her lower lip and toy with her lip ring. "Oh, lots," she promised. "But I won't get into that here and now. Come have dinner at my house, won't you?"

"Oh," Bill murmured, taken aback and trying to process three things at once, one of them involving Tom and tongue so of course that took up most available brain power. "With parents and everything?"

"Yeah," Tom said, aiming puppy eyes in her direction. "No go? My mom's not a great cook but it's decent, and when she burns it we get pizza..."

"Well," Bill demurred, trying to figure out some polite way to say it was too soon.

"Too soon?" Tom continued, dissolving into an easy smile. "No worries, Bill. But I'd like to take you out tomorrow, okay?"

"Like a date?" Bill said, arching a brow.

"Exactly like a date," Tom returned with a nod, reaching her hand out into the space between them. "Except I'm not getting dressed up."

"I can deal," Bill murmured, taking a chance again and grasping Tom's offered hand.

Tom laced their fingers together and Bill smiled. She was learning it could be good to give in.

* * *

Coming to school to have people stare at Bill with varying degrees of curiosity, scorn, or neutral disdain was nothing new. She kept her head up and went about her business. It was an experience of an entirely different order to arrive at school and have people regard her with wonder, envy, or another emotion that Bill couldn't quite pin a label on but it looked starry-eyed. She wasn't sure she liked it.

"Hey!" Tommy bounced up to her, all grin and bright eyes, and fell into step with her, going for Bill's hand.

Bill withheld it. "Hey," she returned. "Um, did you send out some kind of mass text telling people you're dating me?"

Tom blinked. "Whozzat?"

"Everyone's looking at me funny," Bill put forth, fretful. "Like I've suddenly become something special." Why would they think that unless they knew she was with Tommy?

Tom grinned and reached for Bill's hand again as they passed from one wing to another. "Baby," she said, brushing her fingers over Bill's wrist. "They've been looking at you like that all along."

For the first time since junior high, Bill found herself participating more in class beyond turning in homework and papers and writing down assignments. She raised her hand when she knew the answers. She knew the answers a lot. People talked to her - asked her about her clothes, where she'd come from, what kind of music she liked. The weirdest part was, Bill found herself enjoying all the attention.

After her last class before gym, the bleached blond - Andreas, one of Tommy's oldest friends - walked Bill to her locker and they chatted about music. She discovered that Tom had gone to a music school for years with Andreas, and Georg and even Gustav.

"She's really good," Bill exclaimed. "Why isn't Tom in a band, or something?"

Andreas shrugged. "Never had the drive, I guess."

Bill absorbed that. She glanced sidelong at Andreas. He was decent-looking, heavy jaw, somewhat small eyes, but pleasant enough. Not her type. "So, Andreas...question."

Andreas raised his brows at her.

"Is Tommy really..." Bill paused, biting her lip. "She really is...the center."

Andreas laughed. His hands shaped expressive gestures on air. "That's an interesting way to put it. Yeah, she's always been at the heart of everything. Why do you want to know?"

"I just...am I the first girlfriend Tommy's had?" Bill asked. It was so like her to keep picking at something, unable to be completely at ease.

Andreas gave her a long look, almost tripped, and snickered at himself. "The first that could be called a girlfriend, yeah."

That reassured Bill only slightly. She really, _really_ didn't want to picture Tom as the high school bicycle. "So, why me?"

Andreas snorted before frowning at her. "Wait, seriously?"

Bill nodded.

Andreas scratched at an ear. "Well, according to Tom, you're perfect for her." He waved goodbye as he turned a corner, leaving Bill to contemplate that surprising assertion.

Tommy ambushed her at her locker again, exclaiming "Billa-baby," as she cinched arms around Bill's waist.

"Don't call me that," Bill told her, irked. She pushed Tom off her and stowed her backpack in her locker.

"Baby?" Tom tried again, licking her lips and offering a hopeful smile.

"I guess," Bill sighed. She didn't resist as Tom joined their hands, leading her for the gym. She did return Tom's tiny grin when their eyes connected.

In the locker room, as usual Bill picked a place a row over from the other girls to undress. Today, Tom joined her.

"Relax," Tom told her, setting her cap aside and skimming her huge shirt over her bunched up dreadlocks. "I'm not going to jump you."

Still hesitating, Bill admired the curves that Tommy was revealing. She had full breasts contained by a pale gray sports bra, and a flat tummy with a hint of definition. Biting her lip, Bill began to skim off her red winged-skull silkscreened t-shirt. Underneath, she barely filled out her black silk A-cups.

"Unless you want me to," Tom continued, licking her lips. Her dark eyes were dilating.

Bill flushed and held her t-shirt to her chest.

"Bill?" Tom questioned, stepping closed. The lustful look eased into calmness, a kind of acknowledgment. "You really are a virgin, aren't you?"

Making a face, Bill took a step back and turned away.

"Hey. Don't," Tom told her, following and settling gentle hands to her shoulders. "Bill, it's okay. It explains a few things, that's all."

"And it means I don't know what I'm doing," Bill choked out. She closed her eyes, grateful for the subsiding of chatter that meant they were alone in the locker room, or mostly.

"So what?" Tom challenged, nuzzling her neck. "That means you'll learn all that stuff with me."

Bill made a soft sound as Tom nosed at a sensitive patch of skin behind her ear. She was breathless, her chest tight, and each inch of her was aware of the radiant warmth of bare skin pressed to her backside, not to mention the bounty of Tommy's breasts. "You feel good," she murmured.

"I want to make you feel good," Tommy replied, oh so quiet, and kissed her neck.

Bill turned her head and they were kissing, easy as the thrill of song or heartbeat.

Tommy was a good kisser, teasing at Bill's mouth with parted lips and nothing more. As she fitted her lips to Bill's, she gripped her waist more firmly, kindling that same hot rise of excitement in Bill from neck to navel. In crowding closer, wanting more full contact from that lovely mouth, Bill found herself turning around in Tom's arms with a needy, anxious noise. Tom kissed her harder, mouth covering hers, supple fingers fanning out over Bill's back and resting below the line of her bra strap. Bill found herself working her fingers at Tom's nape like a desperately happy cat, kissing amid the welter of rising lust-ridden anxiety swirling within her and opening her mouth to Tom with a low gasp.

Tom licked Bill's lips, leaving a line of heat and wetness before drawing back within the circle of their arms, shuddering. Her lids slowly unveiled hazy brown eyes.

"I'm never going to let you forget," Bill informed Tommy, "that our first kiss was in a smelly locker room that reeked of sweaty socks."

Tom grinned and stuck her tongue out. Bill raised a brow and leaned forward to pursue it as an invitation.

* * *

Dating Tommy wasn't going to be easy, Bill was realizing, but when it was good it was going to be _good._ She agreed to meet up for a date after school and ended up following Tom, riding high in a gigantic black Escalade as she drove into the downtown area. For Bill, trailing in the SUV'S wake in her little Beemer, she pictured herself as a shuttle orbiting the mothership.

"You really want to be a thug!" Bill accused, laughing, as they climbed out of their vehicles at the downtown curb after circling twice to find open spots.

"Nah," Tom denied, "I'm just into hip hop. And you." Tom snared her with a long arm and tucked Bill against her side as they walked up the cracked strip of concrete that lined brick and faux wood-faced storefronts.

Bill snorted to disguise the glow of well-being that assertion spread throughout her. "Just those two, huh?'

Tom turned her head, close enough to breathe on Bill's ear - or kiss it. "You'll find I can be remarkably single-minded when I have something worth focusing on." At close range, her amber brown eyes smoldered.

Bill couldn't help the eyelash fluttering that resulted from Tom's blatant come-on, nor could she stop   
the weakness in the knees that caused her to stumble. Was it normal to be so horny over someone that they had this much of a bodily affect on her? Bill leaned into Tom's arm as Tom giggled and steadied her. This was their first date and yet Bill found herself eager as much as she was nervous to get to the kissing part.

"Whoops," Tom said with a chuckle, keeping Bill on her feet. "Didn't mean for you to fall for me so quickly." It had been meant as a joke, but Bill smiled.

"You're the one who was so persistent," Bill replied, arching a brow.

"Had to be," Tom stated. "I had a feeling you'd never stop running if I didn't pursue twice as hard."

Tommy brought Bill to a sandwich shop fronted with a gaily red and white striped awning on a side street off the main drag. They had the best sandwiches in the city, Tom claimed, and pulled out her wallet as Bill stood near the counter perusing the menu board.

"You don't have to," Bill protested, reaching into her purse.

"My date, my treat," Tom told her, putting a hand over Bill's. "When you invite me out, you can pay."

Bill pursed her lips but gave in.

There was a crowd of boys in letter jackets off to the far side of the shop, seated around a table tearing into sandwiches and crinkling up tissue to throw at each other. They were calling each other all kinds of homo-erotic nicknames and shoving one another in what Bill assumed was their approximation of a playful manner.

After Bill and Tom had placed their orders, sidling down the counter toward the "Order Up" sign, a few of the boys looked up and spotted them.

"Hey Tommy," a tall black-haired boy with dark eyes called out to her. "Still pitching for the wrong team? I can fix that for you."

Bill was sure she was watching an incoming train wreck as Tom swelled an inch taller, pretty face darkening, her hand spasming in Bill's. When Bill tried to pull away, Tom held her tighter.

"Drake," Tom called back. "Still have both your balls? I can fix that for you, you know."

The dark-haired boy began to shove away from the table but three other guys laid hands on him, anchoring him to his seat.

"Let it go, man, you aren't ever gonna lay Tommy," the biggest of them, a soft-spoken black boy, advised.

Drake sneered.

"You know the only guys I get wet for are the ones getting it on with each other," Tom claimed, and grabbed the sandwich bag that the girl behind the counter put up.

That resulted in a chorus of 'eeeww's behind them as Tom squeezed Bill's hand and led her from the shop.

"Wow," Bill stated when they'd returned to the sidewalk.

"Yeah," Tom said with a deprecating shrug.

"Really?" Bill wondered, trying to ponder the appeal of two guys getting it on. She shuddered, but wasn't sure it was a bad thing. She supposed it depended on the guy.

"Let me tell you my thoughts on yaoi," Tom said, putting her arm through Bill's. "Want to eat in the park?"

"Sure," Bill said, hoping like hell this wasn't going to end up like the last time she'd looked up a Japanese sex act. She trusted Tom to take her anywhere, for now.


	3. Chapter 3

After about a week of dating, an avalanche of homework, and goodbye kisses on front stoops, Bill was ready to invite Tom over to her house after school. She'd put it off for as long as she had because, given her rapt absorption with the way their tongues touched and Tom's strong fingers settled on her waist or passed over her back, Bill was pretty sure she'd go all the way as soon as they were alone together for more than ten minutes.

At school, Bill was integrating into Tommy's circle of friends more quickly than she'd ever have expected. Everyone seemed to be trying to win her over, catch her attention, impress her with a bit of trivia or an emailed or tweeted or Tumblr'd link or pic or song. It might have been bewildering if Bill hadn't caught on quick to the fact that Tom had two solid, genuine friends - Georg and Andreas - and the rest were acquaintances, however nice or well-meaning.

"Come to my house after school today," Bill invited when Tom met her at her locker after the last bell as usual.

Tom's eyes lit up and she gave Bill her sincerest twinkling grin. "Ooh, I'm excited to see your inner sanctum."

"No, you only get that if you're good," Bill returned, arching a brow in a bold riposte.

Tom only grinned wider. "Minx," she commented, slipping her hand in Bill's for the walk to the student lot.

"Rawr," Bill couldn't help but respond. She was surprised at herself, anxious but excited. They were going to be alone for hours. She'd give Tom the tour of her house, and then... Bill wriggled, causing Tom to give her a curious sidelong glance to which she replied with a little grin. 'And then' was surely going to involve more hot and heavy making out.

Tom squeezed her hand, returning grin for grin as they walked in step together.

She was glad she'd discovered over the time they had spent together since first sight that she genuinely liked Tommy in addition to being in lust. That made everything simpler yet at the same time, scarier.

"All right, see if you can keep up to me in that giant beast of yours," Bill challenged when they'd reached her little BMW.

Tom leaned in and kissed her, a hand pressing to Bill's waist.

"What's that for?" Bill wanted to know when they parted. Her mouth had the most curious sensation that Bill interpreted as 'want more.'

Tom shrugged, touching the bill of her cap as though to say farewell. "Because." She turned and loped for her Escalade.

One of the reasons Bill hadn't had anyone over sooner was that she lived on 'Rich Row,' as she'd dubbed it in her head. Tom's house was nice; she'd been there, been smothered with love by her warm, eccentric mother, helped peel potatoes and walk dogs and gotten her ass handed to her on Xbox games. Tom's house was solidly middle class.

The Kaulitz dwelling was more on the order of a guarded fortress, sans moat. Once upon a time Bill had questioned her father on the security measures, to which he'd replied, _I have a lot of enemies._

Bill was nervous for another reason as she pulled up to the gate and waved her access pass at the sensor. She could see Tommy's eyes widen in the rearview.

There were two places to park - the broad half-circle drive that cut an arch through the immaculate green lawn and abutted the front steps, and the garage tucked discreetly to one side of the house. Today Bill parked out in front to demonstrate available parking space for Tom.

"Wow," Tom said, joggling down from her Escalade and heading for Bill. She was taking in the front facade. "I always wanted to marry a rich girl."

"Shut up," Bill muttered, skipping over to Tom with a flush. Trust Tom to say the right thing to dispel her tension, or make the moment unbearably awkward, or both. "Anyhow, I'm hardly set for life - my options are college or move out after I turn eighteen."

"Really?" Tom blinked at her, mouth dropping.

"Really," Bill said evenly. "Come on, let me show you around."

Wandering the halls of the big, empty house had never been so fun for Bill as it was with Tom's arm slung around her shoulders, her girlfriend wisecracking in her ear, with occasional stops for not so brief kisses and a boob grab that made Bill jump before she leaned into it.

"You smell good," Tommy told her, inhaling.

"I'm not wearing any perfume," Bill said, puzzled.

"That's why," Tommy returned with a grin.

Bill turned, flustered, only to have Tom reel her back in with a low chuckle.

"Let's take this somewhere where I won't think the suits of armor are watching us," Tom murmured, licking her full red mouth and eyeing Bill with a predatory intent that probably would have made her nervous if she weren't so turned on.

"This isn't Hogwarts," Bill protested, giving Tom a limp-wristed smack.

"Yeah, and I don't have a magic wand in my pocket," Tom returned, expression positively fiendish.

"Tom--" Bill began to complain, and squealed when Tommy leaned in to lick her ear, dampening a fair patch of neck with her saliva. She pulled back, breathing harder. "Want to come see my room?"

"Love to," Tom replied, and wound her arm around Bill's waist again. She nuzzled at Bill's hair as they walked side by side through the halls wide enough to drive a car through. "You never said what your father does?"

"He calls himself a hatchet man," Bill replied, reaching to place a hand over Tommy's where it was settled on her waist. "His working title is usually deputy CEO or deputy Director and basically, he comes in, fixes screwed-up companies, and moves on to the next."

"So you've moved a lot," Tom interpreted. She stretched to place a kiss on Bill's earlobe as they turned a corner.

"Yeah," Bill admitted, refusing to think of the corollary for now. _And we'll move again, and I'll have to leave you, and this will all be over._ She distracted herself from the thought with a broad gesture. "And this is my room!"

Tommy remained glued to her side as they toured through the bedroom past the workstation and couch and the immense hand-carved wardrobe and make-up dressing table Bill had inherited from Grandma Wilhelmina. She made impressed noises, pointing out this or that and exclaiming over the home theater in the corner.

"It's very you," Tom decided at last.

"It's not too much?" Bill fretted, detaching herself from Tom and standing beside the four-poster canopy bed.

"Hell, no," Tom assured her. She licked at her lip ring and eyed Bill up as she continued, "That would be like saying you're too much of a good thing, which is definitely not the case."

"Oh," Bill murmured, flustered, and plopped herself down on her bed. She wasn't sure how to respond to that, but knew what she'd like to do. Already she was all but prickling with anticipation. She didn't know what to say, so she looked up at Tom in mute appeal.

Tommy seated herself beside Bill, her brown eyes watchful. "Bill," she began, braiding her hands together decorously over one knee. "I know you're nervous, so I want you to know that you don't have to--"

Bill lunged across the space between them, covering Tom's open mouth with her own. She licked right across lower and upper lip before plunging her tongue in to twine with Tom's. With a surprised noise, Tom moved closer, playing her tongue against Bill's and wrapping an arm around her waist to align their bodies. One free hand stroked through Bill's flat-ironed hair, tugging on it to slant her head to one side as Tommy pressed her tongue into Bill's mouth in return and they kissed with heated nibbles, returning gesture for eager gesture. With a moan Bill tried to crowd closer, practically in Tommy's lap, and Tom's hand dropped down to her thigh, pulling Bill's leg over her hip. They kissed harder and Bill opened her eyes to admire the sweep of Tommy's near-translucent lashes over her golden skin.

"...do anything," Tommy concluded belatedly with a husky chuckle. "Damn, girl."

"I want to," Bill assured her breathlessly, working her hands into the excessive folds of Tommy's large t-shirt. "I want to do...things."

Tom's brow creased. "You sure you know what you're asking?"

"Mm-hmm," Bill responded with a nod, nudging forward to kiss her again. "So much."

Tom's lips twitched against hers before she planted a firm kiss on Bill's bottom lip. "All right," she decided, placing one hand on Bill's waist, the other still petting her thigh. "Just let me know if anything I do gets to be too much, all right? Otherwise I'll stop every five minutes and ask how I'm doing." She gave Bill a teasing grin and leaned in to brush her lips over Bill's throat.

"Mmm, better not," Bill said, finding the hem of Tom's shirt and pushing her hands up under it, searching for smooth, warm skin. "Then I'll have to...distract you?"

"Nng," was Tom's only verbal response as she kissed Bill's neck, trailing up toward her jaw and dotting kisses from the base of her ear over her cheek until she reached her mouth.

Bill found Tom's bare stomach with her hands and fanned her hands out, exploring. She mirrored Tom's typical gesture and settled her hands at Tom's bare waist, admiring the firm curve of her supple flesh. Tom had a nice figure, where Bill was all stick angles.

Tom kissed the mole at the corner of her mouth and nibbled her lips open.

"I want to take your shirt off," Tom whispered into her mouth before licking Bill's bottom lip.

"Oh," Bill whispered back, thumbing Tommy's sleek waist. "Yes, please."

"You sure?" Tommy pressed, fixing her with heavy brown eyes.

Bill simply nodded, extracting her hands from Tom's shirt to make it easier. She reached up to loosen the silver and black short tie she was wearing over her black blouse, puffed up with black ruffles in front to hide her lack of bosom. Tom's deft fingers traveled down her front, unthreading nacreous buttons from their cloth loops until she'd laid the shirt open.

"I love your black silk bras," Tom told her in a low, reverent voice, pushing the blouse off one shoulder and setting her lips close to a thin strap.

Bill nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She was stricken with the urge to hug Tommy's head to her chest.

Tom drew back and took her cap off, letting her mass of tied-back dreadlocks rest on her neck as she set her cap on Bill's nightstand. Eyes deep and serious on Bill's, she peeled her shirt off, their gazes disconnecting only when the mass of Tom's shirt was being pulled over her head. As usual Tommy was wearing a sports bra.

Bill's fingers itched to reach out, touch, cup the weight of Tommy's breasts in her hands. She wanted it so badly her hands started to move without her conscious command. She caught herself, and blushed fiercely.

"C'mere," Tom murmured, aligning them knee to knee. "You want to touch them?" She grasped Bill's hands in her own.

Dumbly Bill nodded. She watched as one in a dream as Tommy guided Bill's hands to her breasts, cupping beneath Bill's hands to press them there. They were soft and heavy, heavier than Bill had expected, and she could see why Tommy wore sports bras all the time - for the support, of course.

Letting go of her hands, Tommy leaned forward and kissed her. She was careful at first, tentative as though Bill had transformed into spun glass, and Bill smiled against her mouth. She pressed Tommy's breasts up, feeling out the shape of them, and opened her mouth to the exploring tongue that licked over the seam of her lips.

They kissed and dueled tongue back and forth. Bill grew increasingly confident playing with Tommy's breasts, encouraged by the low noises she was making in her throat as she kissed Bill. Fingers traced up Bill's stomach and she was so caught up in the kiss, circling her fingers over the shape of peaking nipples beneath fabric that she barely noticed the spidery crawl of Tom's hands up her front until Tom was feeling her up.

Bill nipped Tom's lip as Tom touched her breasts through her bra. Heady sensation was gathering between her legs and she cried out softly as more sparked through her when Tom took her breasts in both palms, rubbing them up against Bill's ribs and making her nipples tighten frighteningly fast.

"Mm," Bill moaned as Tom dragged her thumbs over Bill's erect nipples through the silky fabric of her bra. Tom was trembling against her as their mouths parted at last. She dropped her head heavily against Bill's shoulder. "You okay?"

"Yeah, y-yeah, I've just never...never wanted anyone so badly," Tom admitted hoarsely into the crook of Bill's neck.

Bill skimmed her hands around from Tom's breasts to the webbing at the back of her sports bra. "I'm glad I can be some kind of first," she teased.

"Hey," Tom said, raising her head to give Bill intense eyes. "You're the first person who's ever made me feel this way. You know?"

"I know," Bill returned, controlling the urge to duck her head shyly. Tom's eyes were so warm and focused on her; her tongue plied at her lip ring in such an unconsciously sexy gesture. "Because you make me feel the same way."

Tom flashed her a bright, happy grin and cupped Bill's tiny breasts through the thin fabric of her bra. "Very nice," she murmured, transferring her attention back to Bill's body.

"Very flat," Bill corrected, making a face.

"The perfect handful," Tom countered. "Mine are too big."

"I like yours," Bill began, losing her train of thought as Tom's fingers brushed over her nipples again.

"I want to lick them," Tom said hoarsely, leaning in to kiss Bill's neck.

"Go right ahead," Bill invited, a thrill coursing through her at the thought.

An agile hand unhooked Bill's bra as they kissed again and Bill played with Tom's breasts once more. She wasn't nervous, only excited as she crowded close, gasping into Tom's mouth as Tom set her bare hands on Bill's exposed breasts.

"On your back?" Tom proposed, fondling her breasts after they'd disengaged their mouths.

Bill blinked at her a moment, not comprehending the question. As Tom's face shifted into worried lines, perhaps anticipating rejection, Bill nodded and scooted further onto the bed, discarding her open top and unhooked bra. Tommy's expression brightened and she sat up on the bed as Bill moved, taking hold of her own sports bra and tugging it off, narrowly avoiding getting it pinched on her heavy dreadlocks several times as it rolled up.

"Come here," Bill invited, holding her arms out as she shucked her boots off one at a time and kicked them over the edge. She shivered a bit, anticipating those full, gorgeous breasts with their firm nipples pressed to her skin.

"Your wish," Tom murmured, toeing off her own sneakers before crawling over to Bill, looming over her, dreadlocks spilling over both shoulders. She leaned down until they tickled Bill's skin. "Hey, sexy."

"Hey yourself," Bill whispered. She wrapped her arms over Tom's back as Tom settled atop her, pinning her to the bedspread with pleasant weight. Her legs were slightly off-kilter from Bill's, their groins not quite aligned.

Tom sighed in through her nose and let it out through her mouth, pouring warm breath over Bill's lips. With a slight shift in position and a dip of her head, they were kissing again. Tom moved atop her, pushing their breasts together until Bill groaned low in her throat. Sitting back, Tom arranged herself astride Bill's hips and kissed at her lips until they were rubbing each other's mouths together, kitten licks of their tongues and soft mewls from Bill as those strong hands massaged her breasts. She stroked Tom's sides to encourage her onward.

Tom painted a line of wet heat from the mole at the corner of Bill's mouth to the hollow of her throat.

"Yes, yes," Bill murmured as Tom licked and nibbled there before sliding down, straddling her legs and cupping one breast.

Bill's entire body jolted as Tom rolled a nipple with her tongue and took it into her mouth, sucking down on it and forming a seal. She whimpered frantically as Tom nursed at her breast, kneading the other as she lashed the nipple she'd captured with a probing tongue. Bill's fingernails skittered over Tom's back as she sought to pull her closer. She cried out as Tom raised her hand, giving Bill a brief glimpse of heavy eyes and a red, swollen mouth before clamping down on the other nipple and fretting it with her devoted tongue.

"You like?" Tom wanted to know, pulling off Bill's thoroughly debauched breast with an understated smack of her lips.

Bill could only lie there and whimper again. She made kneading motions with her hands on Tom's shoulders.

"Oh yeah, you like it," Tom concluded smugly, sitting up over Bill's thighs and thumbing her reddened nipples.

Bill panted softly, closing her eyes a moment and pushing her hips up. She was throbbing in her panties, so needy and longing that she barely knew what to say.

"Bill?" Tom inquired, making Bill's eyes fly open at the rare note of hesitance in her confident Tommy's voice. "What do you want? I'm good with whatever you're comfortable with – we can just lie here and make out, like this, or...or I can make you come."

"Wouldn't take much," Bill admitted, squirming and rubbing her thighs together. She set her hands on Tommy's hips above her low-belted jeans.

Tom grinned and ducked her head, looking pleased and somehow shy. "I mean it," she insisted. "Whatever you want to do, I'm good."

Bill cleared her throat and pushed up, testing Tom's weight on her. Tom wriggled, her eyes falling shut, and Bill realized she was pushing their groins together – she'd lost track of exactly where Tommy was seated, given the yards of fabric that veiled Tommy's nethers. "I'm not much good at self-denial," she began, and fielded an enthusiastic kiss as Tom bent down to plaster kisses over her mouth and chin. "Mmm!"

"I'll make you feel so, so good," Tom promised, tracking down to her ear and nudging at her earlobe. She kissed her there, circling her tongue over Bill's pierced lobe before trailing it up into the outer shell of cartilage.

"Ohh," Bill moaned, closing her arms over Tom's naked back as Tom settled atop her. "Yes, please, I want it."

Tom shifted, cleaving her legs atop Bill's, stroking over her shoulders and bare breasts and ribs and sides. She kissed Bill's ear and moved to her mouth again, and they shared a slow infusion of tongue as Bill let her legs come apart. Tom's weight settled between them and they both made happy noises.

"You feel so good," Tom informed her, propping herself up and stroking Bill's hair.

"I like it, I like everything you're doing to me," Bill murmured, smiling up at her. With hazy eyes she watched Tommy kneel back and unsnap her jeans, holding Bill's eyes as though waiting for Bill to tell her to stop or slow down.

Bill was unbearably horny, and floating on a cloud of warmth that bespoke safety and pleasure and love, all go-signs. Tom wasn't going to get any negative feedback from her. She lifted her hips helpfully and Tom grinned, tugging down her artfully-tattered and bleached jeans and pushing them into a lump near the foot of the bed.

"Black panties," Tom murmured, arching an impressed brow.

"Oh, shut up," Bill whispered, her throat practically closing.

"Shh," Tom returned. "Do you have any idea how unbearably sexy I find black panties? Especially when I'm pulling them off with my teeth?"

Bill couldn't respond to that, only watched with wide eyes as Tom suited actions to words and bent, dragging the lacy edge down Bill's groin with her teeth, dark eyes locked on hers. A desperate "ahh...ahh..." filled the air and Bill buttoned her teeth over her lip when she realized it was coming from her own throat. She reached up and cupped her own tiny breasts, pushing them together to instinctively give Tom a show, and groaned as Tom's eyes darkened.

Tom finished pulling her panties off with two fingers hooked at the side, glancing down. She'd find Bill immaculately shaved and trimmed, only a discreet patch remaining above the hint of folds that led down into her inner lips. "Very nice," Tom praised, rubbing her cheek against Bill's hip between a spread thigh and her pubis.

"I like to...be clean," Bill said vaguely, her voice high and breathy.

Tom paused, glancing to Bill once more as though asking permission.

"I want it, I want you to," Bill assured her in that same strange, breathy tone. Her heart was rabbiting fast in her chest but there was no way she was running, this time.

Tom settled over her thighs, flashed Bill a quick grin, and lowered her face.

"Ahhh!" Bill cried out, startled by that first slap of pleasure, all-encompassing as jumping into the deep end as Tommy licked into her clit without preamble. It was a good thing Tom had slung her weight the way she had, otherwise Bill might have closed her thighs like a trap as her entire body tensed. "Ahh...oh, _ohhh_." It was intense, almost unbearably so as Tom licked and teased the tip of her tongue against Bill's throbbing clit. She'd never felt so good when getting off by herself. Bill was pretty sure she was going to come without much more stimulation than this.

"You like it?" Tom husked, lifting her face briefly and draping an arm over one thigh.

Bill nodded vigorously, squirming and tensing again in a brief, involuntary spasm. She sighed out with pleasure as Tom brought a hand up, tracing to one side of her labia before testing her entrance and slipping the tip of a finger inside.

"You're tight," Tom informed her, "but wet." She grinned, brows wriggling briefly as though to say _I can work with this_ before dipping her head again.

Even expecting it this time, Bill wasn't prepared to cope with the pleasure that overloaded her with the swipe of Tom's tongue. Tom lapped into her, working a finger inside her to the knuckle and Bill tossed her head on the pillow, moaning and fisting the bedspread, reaching out to caress Tom's dreadlocks, even trying to push her hips up as she was flooded with burst after burst of pleasure.

"I'm—ahh!" Bill's voice broke on an upward spiral as she squeaked helplessly, caught in the vibrant storm of the strongest orgasm she'd ever known. She pushed up against Tom's chin, moaning as she came and Tom kept _licking_ and she came again, either a subsidiary shockwave of the first or a second, smaller climax. She twitched and snared Tom's dreadlocks in anxious fingers and panted until she was no longer insensate.

"Good one?" Tom inquired happily, resting on Bill's lower abdomen.

"So good, the best ever," Bill admitted. She stroked Tom's cheek and Tom leaned into the caress. "What can I do for you?"

"Finger me?" Tom asked hopefully. "I'm not going to ask for oral, right off..."

Bill grinned and licked her lips. "I'm not intimidated..."

"But not today," Tom said, crawling up the length of Bill's body and looking predatory with her ropes of hair sliding over one shoulder, breasts swinging free. "Something you're familiar with, first, okay?"

Bill assented with a nod and opened an arm for Tom to tuck herself into. Tom rubbed her mouth beside Bill's and drew back; Bill was the one to pursue, confused as to why Tom was hanging back until their tongues met and she realized what she was tasting. _Not so bad,_ the thought sifted up from a more analytical part of her as they settled in side by side and Bill flicked Tommy's jeans open with a needy murmur.

She slipped her hand into Tom's cotton boyshorts and found her wet, promisingly wet beneath a thatch of well-tended hair. Tom didn't denude her hair ruthlessly the way Bill did, but it was trimmed down and Bill was pretty sure she'd appreciate that when she did go down on Tom.

Tommy was responsive, arching up against Bill's hand and groaning low and sweetly in her throat as Bill tongued at her mouth and swirled her fingers around, exploring and spreading the wetness she found. After taking such an active role in pleasing Bill, it was surprising to find her so pliant, lying beneath Bill and panting as Bill rolled her onto her back and kneaded a breast. Bill worked her fingers into Tommy's wet cunt and swiped her thumb around, pressing it down onto her clit when Tom jerked and swore.

Bill kept up the pressure with her hand, thumb working in sure, steady circles. She bent and took Tommy's nearest breast into her mouth, sucking on the soft skin, denting it with her teeth and licking sloppily over to the nipple before fastening onto it.

"Ahh...ahh!" Tom wailed, blunt nails scrabbling for purchase over Bill's smooth back.

Bill grinned around her mouthful before undulating her tongue, dabbling around the swollen peak of the nipple. She rubbed her thumb insistently over Tom's clit and rode her thighs as she came, bucking up against Bill with a surprised, desperate-sounding cry. Bill pulled off and toppled to the side, knowing how sensitive those bits became after a good hard orgasm.

She squeaked in surprise as Tom rolled, scooping Bill into her arms and hugging her tight.

"What's that for?" Bill wondered, petting over Tom's sleek, sweat-sheened back.

"Being the best ever," Tom told her, and buried her face against Bill's damp neck, a tangle of dreadlocks obscuring her face.

Bill smiled, unseen but happy. She shifted against Tommy until their legs tangled. She remembered the envelope, and the ticky, and smiled wider. Bill stroked Tom's shoulder. "Tom?"

"Mm?" Tom returned, sounding sleepy.

"What did the character mean, on the envelope you sent me?"

"Hmm? Oh. 'Opportunity,'" Tom replied, and kissed her neck.

Bill held her close until Tommy was dozing in her arms. Her eyes smarted with tears that she refused to set free. She was reminded that, intense as it was, moments like this were fleeting, and passed. Their time wouldn't last forever.

Sooner or later, Bill's father would get the job done and they'd move on. This time, she would leave her heart behind.

* * *

Bill woke to the unaccustomed sight of Tommy propped on one elbow beside her, dusky dreadlocks backlit by the waning gold of the sun, a tender smile on her face. A pang of incipient regret knifed through Bill; she was already wrecked over the thought of losing this, especially with Tom lying here looking so sweet on her. Forcing those thoughts deep down, Bill brushed exploratory fingers over the curve of Tom's cheek and smiled.

"Hey," Tom said, her voice scratchy with sleep.

"Hey you," Bill replied, with a little scrunch of her nose. "Want something to eat? I can run and get us a snack, or order a pizza..."

"Pizza sounds good," Tom answered, loosening her arms with clear reluctance as Bill sat up, disengaging their mostly-nude bodies. Tom rolled around and came up with a phone in her hand, making a face. "I'd better call Mom."

Nodding, Bill climbed out of bed and hunted up a t-shirt, pulling it on without bothering to put on her bra, finding a pair of comfortable track pants and slipping them on after restoring her panties to rights. She found herself smiling as Tom cuddled up to Bill's abandoned pillow the further she got from the bed.

The house was quiet until she reached the kitchen, wanting to grab a couple of cold sodas for her and Tom. The closer she got, the more she heard of the smoothly controlled tones of an angry Jorg Kaulitz.

"--those contracts on my desk by Monday, _all_ of them this time, and I don't care which nests of angry hornets you have to stir up to get them," Jorg was telling someone on the other end of the line. He turned as Bill entered the kitchen and gave her a little wave that she returned. "I don't care about the overtime. Consider it paid. Get the job done. Goodbye." He ended the call and dropped his phone into his pocket.

"Hi, Dad," Bill ventured, padding forward toward the refrigerator and her father, who had been pacing between the kitchen island and the opposing row of utilities.

"Hi, Bills," Jorg returned, opening his arm for a hug and mussing her hair.

She stuck her tongue out at him, pulling away to grab a refrigerator handle. "Sounds like that's going well."

"It's a complete clusterfuck, as always," Jorg replied. "How are you doing, kitten? Liking it here? Settling in well, making friends?"

Bill rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet. "...yeah," she admitted, wary.

"Don't give me that look," Jorg said wryly. "We're not going anywhere."

"You mean it?" Bill prompted, suspicious.

Jorg nodded. "Not this time. I just signed a three-year contract--"

Bill whooped, catching herself by surprise, and her father too, if the way he widened his eyes was any indication. "Three years!?" she demanded, barely willing to believe it. "So I'll finish high school here? No more moving?" No leaving Tom, she finished in her thoughts at once. No premature goodbyes, no suffering the pain of falling only to be torn apart, no being in love just for the moment.

"No moving for at least three years," Jorg agreed, his handsome face creasing in a quick smile. "I was hoping you wouldn't mind."

"Wouldn't mind?" Bill parroted, knuckling at her eyes. "Dad..."

"Don't cry, I'll take us out for dinner," Jorg bargained.

Bill beamed goofily at him, throwing herself forward for another hug, pulling back when they patted one another awkwardly. Neither of them coped well with an overload of emotion.

"Better yet," Bill replied, "I'll introduce you to my girlfriend. You order pizza, and we'll dust off the dining room table for a change of pace."

"All right," Jorg agreed without missing a beat. "What's good here?" He had barely been home long enough to share takeout Chinese or Mediterranean over the past few weeks.

"Deep dish," Bill advised, and scampered off on light-stockinged feet, her heart ablaze with song.

Back in her bedroom, the light had faded and Tommy sat up in bed as she burst over the threshold, grinning Cheshire-mad. Tommy had pulled her clothes back into a semblance of order and was finger-combing her dreadlocks.

"You look like Christmas morning," Tom observed, swinging her legs over the bed.

"I just got the best present early," Bill declared, shimmying within range, yoking her arms around Tom's neck and making a pleased sound when Tom put her arms around Bill's waist, nestling against her diaphragm. "We're staying. I'm not moving again, I don't have to leave; we'll be here through graduation--"

Tom jumped up, interrupting Bill's flow of words. "I knew it!"

"Knew what?" Bill inquired with breathless apprehension, worried from the congested expression on Tom's face that she was going to accuse Bill of holding out on her, maybe say she'd made a mistake, even confirm Bill's fear that she was too good for more than fooling around with Bill, after all.

"I knew I get to keep you," Tom declared. She picked Bill up and spun her. "I knew that you're for me."

Bill laughed, loud and happy and delighted as she'd never let herself, and kissed back with interest as Tom gave her the first of many, _many_ more kisses.

"But you have to meet my father," Bill proposed, when Tom let her up for air.

"That's fine," Tom said, and counter-bargained, "Will you be my date for homecoming? Dress formal, thong panties."

"We'll see," Bill demurred, but as they left the bedroom hand in hand she had every intention of acceding to homecoming, winter formal, prom, and whatever else high school threw their way.

All the remaining two glorious years of it, all because Tommy would be by Bill's side.


End file.
